


Fading

by WannabeAEStheTic22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Conversations, Destiel - Freeform, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Sort Of, Spoilers, Supernatural Endverse, kind of, lowkey smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:27:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WannabeAEStheTic22/pseuds/WannabeAEStheTic22
Summary: Dean knew how this was going to end. At least he had Cas for now.





	Fading

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, so bear with me. Constructive criticism is very nice.  
Also I do not own Supernatural. Duh.

The bunker had always been home for Dean. Ever since he and Sam had moved in, it had been his place to unwind and relax. He always felt safe there. But now... Now it felt constricting, like when he had woken up in the coffin after Cas rescued his ass from hell. Even his room, with his magazines and music and guns, felt like a giant stone crypt, trapping him.  


Maybe it was because Dean knew that it was only a matter of time until they were all dead. Chuck was.. sorry, God was toying with them, dragging it out for His own entertainment. Dean should have known, all along. Hell, Motorhead had warned them. Nothing ever worked out for them. 

Now Jack was dead. Even though the kid had gone off the rails Dean knew Jack didn't deserve that. Dean was never going to have killed the kid. He had wormed his way into Dean's heart.  
Mom was still gone. Sam was hurt; he had gotten the worst of the zombie beating. Dean hadn't seen Sam since they had gotten back to the bunker and Sam had stumbled off with the half-assed excuse of cleaning his shoulder, but since he wasn't dying Dean was too tired to care.  


So there Dean was, sitting on his bed in the room that used to be his sanctuary. He felt claustrophobic and hated God even more for taking away the one place he had always felt safe in.  


His thoughts turned to Cas. Cas, who had just watched his Father kill his son, who had just learned that his absentee dad wasn't just apathetic, but the actual big bad, the worst of the sons-of-bitches that they killed every day. But they couldn't kill this one. Dean wondered what Cas was thinking. He hadn't said anything since Jack was killed, and had disappeared as soon as they reached the bunker.  


Dean stood slowly. He suddenly needed to find Cas, to see if he was okay. The urge came from deep within him, from a place that he had been ignoring since before Purgatory. It all seemed pointless now, his stubborn determination not to show emotion, not to show that he cared more than he should for a man, an angel, that he had called his brother once.  


And maybe Cas had been at one point his brother, but Dean knew now that whatever it was that he felt for Cas wasn't brotherly. He'd known it since that time several years ago when he had touched himself in the shower and his fantasy nurse's voice had dropped. At that time he'd been able to handle it, lust for a man wasn't anything new to Dean, although he made sure that no one ever knew that fact; John's military training stuck with a person.  


But then Dean started noticing other things; the way Cas got confused about simple human things, the way he would tilt his head and squint his eyes when something didn't make sense, the way that either of these actions would make Dean feel an unexplainable rush of affection. Once Dean noticed that he noticed everything. Everything Cas did, everything Cas was, just seemed to piece Dean back together. When Cas was there he could face anything, and when Cas wasn't, well, he pined. Even Cas's betrayal hadn't been able to burn out the... feeeeelllliiiiinnngggsss... that Dean felt, even though he refused to label them or acknowledge them.  


Now it all seemed stupid. He'd been at the verge of telling Cas once, been planning it actually, once they got out of Purgatory. But then, well. That didn't happen. Dean was a coward, he knew it, but he had never been able to spit it out. Maybe it was because he knew that he didn't deserve Cas, that there was no way that Cas reciprocated his misplaced feelings, even though occasionally, when Cas stared at him or offered to watch over him and not Sam, he let himself fantasize.  


Now it was too late. Too late for confessions, they were all gonna die pretty soon anyway. But it was also too late for shame to hold him back from honesty. Who gave a fuck? So what if he embarrassed himself forever in front of Cas if he was just gonna die tomorrow anyway? So with this idea, Dean left his room, navigating the bunker's mazelike hallways in search of his angel.  


Dean found him in Jack's room. Cas wasn't moving, just sitting on Jack's bed, staring at the wall and hugging a pillow. Frowning, Dean knocked lightly, and the angel jumped like he'd been shot. Dropping the pillow like it was a cursed object, Cas jumped to his feet.  


"Dean!" he said, wide-eyed, as though he had been caught stealing. "I was just.."  


Dean moved into the room and sat on the bed next to where Cas had been.  


"Sit down Cas, I'm not here to jump you."  


Cas sat as if on autopilot. "Sorry." he said automatically.  


"'S fine." Dean grunted. He leaned down and picked up the pillow. "Jack's, huh?"  


Cas looked down and nodded slowly. Dean thought that he looked as though the whole world was sitting on his shoulders. Cas closed his eyes, and his shoulders shook slightly. Shit, Dean was not equipped for this. This was Sam's job, the consoling and chick-flick moments and coping. But hell if Cas hadn't been there for him more times than Dean could count and certainly more than he deserved. Dean could pull his head out of his ass and help his best friend (Jesus, if that didn't pang a little, but Dean wasn't that selfish) out.  


"Uh, d'ya wanna talk?" Dean asked, feeling significantly awkward and out of his depth. Cas looked at him strangely.  


"What would we talk about? You know everything that happened." He looked at Jack's bedside table where a single photo sat, not framed, just leaned against the lamp. It had all four of them in it, in front of a cheap diner. Sam had asked the waitress to take it and, although Cas wasn't looking at the camera and Dean had blinked, Jack had asked for a copy.  


"Team free will 2.0." Dean muttered, feeling an unexpected press of emotion at the back of his throat. "He was a good kid."  


"You hated him." Cas stated, not accusatorily, just as a fact.  


"He grew on me." Dean replied, the edges of his mouth curling just a little. “And Cas, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For saying that crap to you. I was mad and desperate. But he was your kid. He was all of our kid. So yeah.” He looked down, then back up.  


Cas smiled a little too, and then he was looking at Dean, wide electric blue eyes too close, and all Dean wanted to do was kiss him, feel him kiss back, have something good happen on this god-forsaken (haha puns) day. Dean jerked himself out of the familiar fantasy, hoping Cas hadn't noticed. But Cas wasn't saying anything, just staring at Dean, as if he was trying to memorize his face.  


"What, I got something on my face?" Dean joked, hoping to distract Cas from noticing how fast his heart was beating and the red flush he could feel beginning to creep over his face.  


Cas continued to stare at him unabashedly. "You have many things on your face Dean. They are called freckles, and I am trying to count them. Hold still."  


Dean froze. "Cas. Why are you trying to count my freckles?" he asked quietly, as though his heart wasn't pumping against his ribcage almost painfully.  


Cas lifted a hand, brushing his fingers gently over the bridge of Dean's nose, across his cheek, finally resting gently just under his jaw, cupping his neck. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch because Jesus-fucking-Christ, he wasn't an idiot, he'd take whatever Cas would give him.  


"When my Fa... when Chuck created humans," Cas said slowly, and Dean opened his eyes to meet Cas's. "He spoke often about how they were the most beautiful of His creations. The other angels, as you know, never understood this, never understood how hairless apes could be more beautiful than even Lucifer, and I didn't either, not until I pulled you out of hell." Cas spoke, and somehow his voice was even lower, more gravelly than usual and fuck, Dean was so gone.  


"The angels say that I fell in love with humanity, that I was lost as soon as I touched you in hell. They were right, partly. When I touched your soul, Dean, I was lost, but it was not humanity I fell in love with."  


Dean sucked in a breath sharply. He could feel his skin crawling with the urge to run, get out, before something took this and twisted it; before he had hope that he knew would only be crushed, but he was pinned in place by Cas's hand and eyes. And yes, Dean admitted, by his own longing, his own desperate hope that this was real. But Cas was brushing his thumb over Dean's cheek, his jaw, his lips and holy fucking shit, this was real.  


"I was never going to tell you, Dean." Cas was still talking, and Dean forced himself to pay attention, and not just in the staring at Cas's lips way. "I knew that this was something you could not give me, and you have given me so much, I could not ask for this as well, not after all I have done. But now, I have nothing left to lose. We will all be dead soon. You will be in Heaven with Sam, and I, well, I have a deal to fulfill. So I am telling you. Thank you, Dean Winchester."  


Cas moved his finger once more over Dean's lips, caressing, gentle in a way that made Dean ache inside, then pulled away. He turned away and stood.  


Dean moved before he thought, or maybe he didn't have to think because he had been doing too much damn thinking, but like hell he was going to let Cas just walk away thinking he didn't deserve Dean, that Dean didn't love him and ache for him the same way, emotional constipation, chick-flicks, and God Himself be damned.  
Grabbing Cas's wrist, Dean spun him around, standing to meet him while simultaneously pulling Cas down. Their lips met somewhere in the middle, a wild clash of lips and teeth and oh god finally. Dean's hand left Cas's wrist and slipped around his side to settle at the small of his back. 

Cas froze for a moment, but when Dean showed no signs of stopping Cas cupped his face with both hands and fucking cradled his head like Dean was the most precious thing he had ever touched, and god, that was going to make Dean cry.  


But then Cas was pulling back, holding Dean at arm's length and staring at him with those big blue eyes blown wide with shock.  


"Dean?" he asked softly, and shit, Dean had never heard him sound more unsure.  


"What are you doing?" Cas looked fragile, like what Dean said could make him break into a million pieces and just fade away.  


"I don't really know." Dean's voice was husky and he didn't know if it was emotion or lust but he ducked his head all the same.  


Cas jerked away as if he had been burned. "I don't want your pity, Dean." he said sharply. "You don't have to do that just because you feel bad for me"  


Dean looked up. "What? No! That's not what I.. Son of a bitch." He dragged a hand over his face. Cas looked like he was about to bolt. Dean grabbed his wrist again, then let his hand drift down until he was holding Cas's hand. It was rougher than Dean had been expecting. The hand of a soldier, calloused and worn.  


Taking a deep breath, Dean tilted Cas's head up to meet his eyes.  


"Look Cas, I'm not really any good at this stuff, you know that. But I'm gonna try ok?" Cas nodded hesitantly and Dean took that as the go-ahead.  


"I know that everything has gone to complete shit, and that we're all going to be dead soon like you said, so maybe this doesn't matter, because it's already so late but, Cas, what you were saying, I know, okay? I know."  


Cas looked confused. "Well yes, I just told you. Dean, I don't see what that has to do with you not pitying.."  


Dean broke in. "Cas just, shut up for a second ok?" Cas shut his mouth and nodded slowly.  


Dean took another breath. "Okay, what I meant wasn't that I know what you said, cause obviously you just said it. I meant that I know. I know what it means to want someone who is your best friend but never feel as though you could be enough for them. I know what it's like to think someone is beautiful, so beautiful, with those fucking, eyes and lips and god-dammit, just so fucking beautiful. Okay? I know that. Because Cas..."  


Dean took yet another deep breath, forcing himself to look Cas in the eye and not run off with the last part of his bullshit self-protection act intact.  


"Because I feel the same way about you." Dammit, Dean couldn't even say the fucking words. "Because I need you, Cas." Still nope, but maybe that was okay. Cas was looking at him as though Dean had just told him that he'd won a million dollars, or whatever it is that gets angels excited.  


Cas didn't say anything. "Umm, so yeah." Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, looking down at Cas's shoes. There was still dirt on them, from the graveyard, fighting zombies. He would have to make sure Cas got clean clothes and a shower and oh, Cas's hand was cupping his jaw again, tilting his head back and then they were kissing again but this time it was soft, so soft, as though Cas was trying to pour ten years of love into one point of contact.  


A sound came out of Dean's mouth that he would never admit to making. But then Cas growled, low in his throat, and Dean knew that, yes ok, he would make that sound again if it did that to Cas. So when Dean found the back of his knees pressed against the bed, he folded, dragging Cas on top of him onto the kid's bed, and some part of him thought they should move, this wasn't quite right, wasn't reverent to Jack's memory, but then Cas had a hand under Dean's shirt and his crotch pressed down onto Dean's and Cas was asking if this was okay, and holy shit what a stupid question, Dean had been waiting for six years and then everything just faded away. 

As it turned out, they had longer than they had anticipated. Six months, six months of hunting down God's monsters, of trying to find a way to kill God. Six months of pulling their shit together and getting back up, six months of Sam making jokes that it's about damn time, trying so hard to lighten the mood and them all being so desperate for a reprieve that it was funny, even after the twelfth time. Six months of quickies in the shower and hard fucks when one of them got hurt and occasionally, far too rare, long slow lovemaking and nights where they just help each other and whispered the things they had never been able to say before, desperately, knowing tomorrow could be the last time.  


In the end, it still wasn't long enough. Dean had known though, that it would never be long enough. He was selfish that way, wanting more time, wanting it to drag out, even as civilians were getting killed and Sam was not okay, too ready to die, but if it meant more time with Cas...  


But here they were anyway. They had done it. Killed mother-fucking God. The ultimate monster. But also, the ultimate price. Here they were, spread out, limbs in positions they should not be in; blood, so much blood, Dean didn't even know whose blood was where.  


In the last moments, Dean felt his baby brother curl into his side, his wild choking finally stilled, his hand relaxing its grip on Dean's shirt, and the tears ran into his hairline but he couldn't even speak, and holy shit, it hurt, even though he knew he would be following soon. Younger brothers shouldn't die first, and goddammit he couldn't even turn his head to see his brother's body again. And then Cas grabbed his hand, desperate and weak, using all of his remaining energy and Dean found that last bit of fight in him to turn his head. Cas's eyes met him, blue, fuck, always so blue, and beautiful, did he tell Cas that this morning?  


Not enough time, fuck. Never enough time. But they had this moment, right now, and pain be damned, Dean didn't want it to end. So he held Cas's hand, and looked into those gorgeous baby blues that were so expressive, and he cried, and Cas knew.

Where are you now? I'm fading...


End file.
